


Compass Points

by Riona



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-06-26 13:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15663981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riona/pseuds/Riona
Summary: Jane is being kind of weird.(Patrick Jane is in love with all of his colleagues. His colleagues are starting to notice.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I first posted this first chapter on Livejournal back in 2010, under the title _Point Five_ , so I'm sorry if you've seen it before! I don't usually post my older fanfiction to AO3, but in this case I've made an exception because I'm currently working on a prequel from Lisbon's perspective, and if I post this I've got no excuse not to finish it! If I'm feeling ambitious, maybe I'll attempt chapters for the other teammates as well.

It starts small. Jane is a tactile person – has to be, it seems, for some of his techniques to work – and so Van Pelt isn’t surprised when he leans briefly against her to look at something she’s holding or seems to have no trouble squeezing past her to get to the fridge. When she first joined the team, some part of her was afraid that he was manipulating her or somehow seeing her thoughts every time he brushed against her wrist, but before long she came to trust him and barely to register his casual touches.

But now, gradually, things she can’t ignore have begun to creep in. He rests his hand on her upper back as he announces to the team, “Van Pelt has found our motive,” and halfway through her explanation he starts stroking the back of her neck with his thumb and she stutters off in mid-sentence, confused. He runs his fingers through her hair, absently, when they’re waiting in the car for Lisbon’s return.

Van Pelt is becoming more and more convinced that this isn’t a totally normal consultant-client relationship.

-

They’re taking a break for lunch when things get really strange. The others have already left, and Van Pelt has finished up and is walking towards the door when Jane waves her over from the couch.

“Hey, Van Pelt,” he says, lounging back against the cushions. “You’re not staying?”

“I was going to have lunch.”

“You can eat lunch any time,” Jane says. He pats the space next to him. “Sit down.”

Van Pelt stares at him. “I can’t sit down,” she says, eventually. It seems ridiculous, but the possibility of sitting on Jane’s couch is something that has never occurred to her. “It’s your couch.”

Jane grins. “I’m sure you invite people into your home sometimes. C’mon, sit down.”

Van Pelt sits, cautiously. She really does feel as if she’s just walked into Jane’s home. In a way, this might be even more personal; Jane spends so much time here that she’s wondered whether he even _has_ a home elsewhere.

Actually, she doesn’t know why he’s here right now at all. It’s not as if he can do much for this case.

“How’d the house visit go?” Jane asks.

“He’s still not saying anything.”

“Mmm,” Jane says. “Big surprise. Should’ve brought me along; you know I could have him talking in ten minutes.”

“I guess we’ll never be able to prove that,” Van Pelt says, “given that the suspect has a restraining order against you.”

“That was a total overreaction,” Jane says, kicking his feet up over the arm of the couch, and before Van Pelt knows what’s going on he’s resting his head in her lap. For a moment she forgets how to speak, but he’s looking calmly up at her, as if there’s nothing strange about this situation at all.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a legal defence,” she manages, eventually.

Jane snorts, closing his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Van Pelt doesn’t know what to do. Jane’s head is a warm weight in her lap, and it isn’t _unpleasant_ , exactly, but it’s definitely beyond the bounds of normal co-worker interaction. She hopes Rigsby doesn’t walk in while they’re like this. Or Lisbon. Or anyone.

“Jane,” she says, quietly.

“Hmm?”

“You’re kind of lying on me.”

“I am, aren’t I?” He opens his eyes. “Does that bother you?”

 _Does_ it bother her? “I don’t know. It’s a little weird.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, closing his eyes again. “That’s nice; keep doing that.”

It’s not until he says it that she realises she’s been toying with his hair. She stops automatically, then remembers that he just asked her not to, then, after a moment’s uncertainty, decides against resuming.

They stay there in silence for a few minutes. Van Pelt is very tense.

“What do you want?” she asks, eventually.

Jane shrugs, not opening his eyes. He runs his hand idly up and down her leg. “This.”

They’re going to be thrown out of the CBI, Van Pelt thinks. She tries to keep her breathing steady. “Sex?”

Now he opens his eyes and gives her a strange look. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t sex,” he says. “I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong, but I’ve been told I’m perceptive.”

Van Pelt raises her eyebrows. “What, just _this_? Just... lying here?”

Jane smiles and closes his eyes again. “Yeah. Why not?”

Van Pelt hesitates for a moment.

“I guess this is okay,” she says.

-

Van Pelt isn’t sure what to do about Jane’s behaviour, but she can’t stop dwelling on it, so she’s going to have to do _something_. The morning after Jane spends the entire lunch break sleeping on her, she comes in early and knocks on Lisbon’s open door.

“Hi, Van Pelt,” Lisbon says, looking up. There’s a pause, in which Van Pelt can practically _feel_ Lisbon considering whether to shake her hand and then deciding that there’s no need to be so formal with members of her own team. “Come in,” she says, and then, when Van Pelt does, “What can I do for you?”

Van Pelt isn’t sure what Lisbon can do for her, really, but maybe all she needs is someone to talk to about this. She can’t make sense of it on her own. “Uh, Jane is being kind of... weird.”

“Jane’s always being weird,” Lisbon says. “You’ve only just noticed?”

Van Pelt is starting to feel that maybe talking to Lisbon was a bad idea. There’s something strange about her relationship with Jane; Van Pelt’s felt maybe something was going on between them ever since she joined the team. Talking to Rigsby about this would probably be worse, though, and she’s not sure Cho would really be interested.

“ _Oh_ ,” Lisbon says, with a sudden, quickly-suppressed smile. “He’s probably in love with you.”

“What?” Van Pelt asks, startled. “No. I mean – I don’t know. I mean – ”

“Calm down,” Lisbon says, taking a seat and gesturing for Van Pelt to do the same. Van Pelt stays on her feet, just in case she needs to escape out the window. “I was wondering when we’d be having this conversation.”

“You’re okay with this?” Van Pelt asks, before what Lisbon has just said hits her. “You _saw this coming_?”

“Patrick Jane is in love with every member of this team,” Lisbon says. “I’d be worried we had the wrong person for the job if he _didn’t_ fall in love with you.”

Van Pelt’s legs have started to shake, and she sits down abruptly. Throwing herself out the window will have to wait. “ _Everyone_? Even Rigsby?”

“I’m not sure Rigsby’s figured it out yet,” Lisbon says, “but yes.”

“He told you this?”

“Jane’s not the only one who can notice things,” Lisbon says, smiling, before the smile drops and is replaced with concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

Van Pelt can’t look her in the eye. “I don’t know.”

“I know it’s complicated,” Lisbon says, sympathetically. “But I can promise you you won’t be fired for this, at least. We can’t exactly let the whole team go, and in any case it’s not a sexual relationship.”

“How do you know it’s not sexual?” Van Pelt asks, feeling herself flush. “It’s bad enough having _one_ co-worker who can read my mind.”

Lisbon shrugs. “I know Jane.”

-

Now that Van Pelt is paying attention, she can see that Jane really does treat every member of the team the same way: touches that might be casual if they didn’t linger so long, compliments that are a tiny bit too personal to be interpreted as friendly. He falls asleep against Rigsby’s shoulder; he adjusts Cho’s tie. When he doubles over in laughter and braces a hand on Van Pelt’s thigh to support himself, she tries at first to stay composed and think _it means nothing, he does it to everyone,_ and then she remembers that, if Lisbon is right, it _does_ mean something; it just happens to mean the same thing for all of them.

But it’s not sexual. Jane touches her more than some of her actual boyfriends have, but it’s never sexual, and in a way that makes things easier – it certainly makes them less career-threatening – and in a way it’s just confusing. She’s not used to it, simply being touched without intent, and some part of her is tense and anticipatory when Jane brushes a hand down her arm or leans over to murmur an observation in her ear, waiting for something that never comes.

After a few weeks, she starts to wonder whether perhaps she should instigate something, or at least establish exactly what Jane is looking for, and she’s not sure of which she intends to do when she takes a break from researching Ellen Roberts’ academic background and finds herself walking over to Jane.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks. “After work?”

“No problem,” he says, waving lazily to indicate the couch. “You know where I’ll be.”

-

Van Pelt stays behind after hours, doing all the work she can think of, until it’s just her and Jane and Lisbon and the lights are low in headquarters. At last, Lisbon stretches and walks out of her office, and then she pauses.

“Not going home?”

“Thought I’d try to dig up some more info on the Roberts case,” Van Pelt says, organising all her computer icons into a folder system more intricate than could ever conceivably be necessary.

Lisbon glances to her right, and Van Pelt follows her gaze to Jane’s form, lying peacefully on the couch. They both look back at the same time.

“Be careful,” Lisbon says, quietly. “And good night.”

-

When Lisbon has left, Van Pelt spends a little longer organising her shortcuts, as if she can somehow trick herself into believing she actually stayed behind to do some work, but after a few minutes she gives up the pretence and walks over to the couch. Jane’s eyes are closed; his hands are folded across his stomach. He looks supremely relaxed.

“Are you asleep?” she asks, softly.

Jane’s eyes flicker open. “I’m never asleep.”

There are times when Van Pelt wouldn’t actually be surprised if it were true. “May I sit down?”

Jane gives a theatrical groan, but he swings his legs off the couch and shuffles up to make room for her anyway. She sits.

“So,” she says, and then she hesitates.

He just sits there, watching her, a little warily, like he’s waiting to see what she’ll do. She feels like _she’s_ waiting to see what she’ll do.

“So,” he says, eventually, and she leans in and kisses him.

He starts to kiss back for a moment, she thinks, but perhaps she’s only imagining it, because half a second later he’s drawn away and the atmosphere has changed. Van Pelt knows she’s made a mistake.

“Don’t,” he says. “I can’t. I – ” He looks pained. “Sorry,” he says. “But I can’t.”

Movement catches Van Pelt’s eye, and she glances down at Jane’s hands. He’s rubbing his thumb compulsively over his wedding band. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “Don’t – ”

But he’s already off the couch, pulling on his coat. “I should go home,” he says.

It occurs to Van Pelt only after he’s left that she’s never heard him say that before.

-

He doesn’t touch her at all for the next few days. He’s as friendly as ever, but the tactility is gone, and she’s a little surprised by how much she misses it. Somehow, all the little touches – Jane’s fingers stroking through her hair, Jane’s hand on her back – have become an expected part of her work-life, taken for granted, and she feels their absence constantly; it’s as if she’s come into the office and found that from now on she’s expected to do her work without a chair.

The worst part is that he’s still touching the others. She’s hyperaware, now, of all the times he slings an arm across Cho’s shoulders or leans against Rigsby’s side; all the times his fingers brush Lisbon’s as he passes her documents or mugs of tea. She wasn’t sure whether Lisbon was right earlier, whether Jane could really be in love with _all_ of them, but now, as a locked-out observer, she sees every not-quite-casual touch and knows that it’s true.

It’s not an easy thing to deal with, but it’s much, much worse to know that she’s screwed it up. It’s as if there’s a forcefield between her and Jane, now, whenever they interact. It’s obvious that he’s being careful not to touch her, even accidentally. Something has been lost.

She doesn’t know how to find it again.

-

Four days after she tried to kiss him, Van Pelt waits until the rest of the office is empty and then sits on the arm of Jane’s couch. His eyes are closed, but she can tell from the way he tenses that he’s awake.

“I’m sorry,” she says, after a moment.

There is a silence of at least a minute, and she’s about to get up and walk away again when he says, “For what?”

Van Pelt is taken aback. He must know what she means; is he going to force her to say it? “Um – ”

“You’ve done nothing wrong. You don’t need to apologise.”

“I just...” she attempts. “Your wife. I should have thought...”

“This isn’t about my wife.”

This conversation makes no sense. “It’s not?”

“I love my wife,” Jane says. “Very much. But this is about Red John.”

Van Pelt stares at him.

“He hasn’t forgotten me,” Jane says. He opens his eyes and looks into hers. “Please don’t make me fall in love with you.”

On some level, she thinks, he must _know_ it’s too late, but all that she says is, “I won’t.”

-

Five days after she tried to kiss him, Jane comes up behind her chair and puts a hand on her shoulder and leans over her to look at her screen. “Any news on Justin Brookes?” he asks.

“Nothing yet,” she says. She covers his hand with her own, cautiously, and is relieved when he doesn’t pull away.

-

A week later, Van Pelt comes back from having lunch to find Jane lying on the couch, doing the crossword, his feet on Cho’s lap and his head in Lisbon’s. Cho’s expression is unreadable; Lisbon gives her a knowing smile and a roll of the eyes. Jane waves at her and protests when she ruffles his hair.

“Where’s Rigsby?” she asks, leaning against the side of the couch nearest Lisbon.

As if in answer to her question, Rigsby walks in, sees the tableau, pauses, looks incredibly embarrassed, mumbles something inaudible and walks straight out again.

“He’ll come around,” Lisbon says quietly to Van Pelt, amusement in her voice, and Van Pelt can’t hide her grin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the prequel! (I will concede that the chapters of this fic are in a pretty confusing order.) I originally conceived of this before 'Red Dawn', so it may not be canon-compliant.
> 
> I've marked this as complete for now because I don't know for certain whether I'll be writing more in this universe. It's possible, though! I really, really ship Jane/everyone, so I'd love to write more for it.

Lisbon first notices it with Cho.

Jane gets close to people. She’s used to that. No regard for personal space, plus a whole host of techniques that involve checking someone’s pulse or reading their muscles or ‘establishing a physical rapport’, whatever that means. It freaked her out at first; she’s not given to physical contact, and there were times when she felt like his hands were all over her, like she couldn’t breathe. But she’s used to it by now. Just another item on the long list of behaviour she’s learned to tolerate.

She watches when Jane hypnotises Minelli to quit smoking, and she has to struggle not to laugh at Minelli’s face when Jane gets up close, before he goes under. Minelli’s not used to him in the way she and Cho and Rigsby are. By this point, if Jane got that close to Lisbon, Lisbon probably wouldn’t even register it.

And then Jane offers the same service to Cho. And it...

It’s different.

She can’t really pin it down. But it doesn’t feel the same.

It’s not just one thing. Jane sits a little closer, speaks a little softer. His touches linger longer. His focus always feels intense, but he’s keeping his eyes on Cho like they’re the only people in the room, like they’re the only people in the world. Lisbon feels like she shouldn’t be here.

With Minelli, she was just watching Jane hypnotise someone, a means to an end. It seemed normal, or as normal as anything involving Jane can be. With Cho, it feels like...

It feels like they’re lovers.

They’re not. Are they?

-

Once she’s seen it, she can’t stop seeing it. Jane’s... so _fond_ around Cho, so intimately fond. Nothing against regulations actually seems to be going on; she’s pretty sure Cho hasn’t noticed. But Lisbon is starting to feel like she’s intruding whenever she’s alone with them.

Slowly, though, she starts to realise it’s not just with Jane and Cho.

She’s imagining things. Right? She was probably imagining the Jane-and-Cho thing to begin with. There’s definitely no way Jane could be in love with Cho _and_ Rigsby. That’s not how it works.

But there’s that particular smile, that almost-casual style of touching. She’d thought it was reserved for Cho. It’s for both of them, isn’t it?

She can’t wrap her head around it. She kind of wants to ask questions. But that would make things even more uncomfortable, and it’s none of her business, really, so long as Jane does his job and doesn’t actually make a move on them.

And he won’t, she’s pretty sure, not with that ring still on his finger. Not with Red John still out there. Jane’s life stopped years ago, and Red John is keeping it there, frozen in that moment.

Starting a new relationship would mean moving on. She’s not sure Jane is capable of that.

-

It takes her much, much longer to realise there might be _another_ person involved. Jane reaches out to brush her hair behind her ear, like that’s a completely normal thing to do when you’re discussing a homicide case with a colleague, and everything...

It doesn’t fall into place. It all falls out of place, violently. She jerks away from his hand, not thinking, and Jane’s expression flicks in an instant from hurt to amused to analytical.

No. It’s absolutely not possible. He’s not—

Her mind stutters on _he’s not straight_. He’s not gay either, is he? She’s been thinking so much about his feelings for Cho and Rigsby, whatever those are, but there was also his marriage.

“Everything okay, Lisbon?” Jane asks.

She’s imagining things. She’s dreaming.

He ducks his head slightly to look into her eyes, and what she sees in his face terrifies her. It’s the same fondness she sees when he looks at Cho, or Rigsby. It’s too much when it’s directed at her. It’s worse to realise she’s seen it before; she just didn’t recognise it.

“I need the bathroom,” she blurts out. She needs to escape, right now.

“Enjoy,” Jane says. “I’ll be here.”

-

She waits for a moment when Jane’s not around to approach Rigsby and Cho.

“Do you think Jane...” She can’t pin down how to word this. She shouldn’t be asking in the first place. But the suspicion is a fire in her throat, and it’ll kill her if she stays silent. “Do you think he might have any... unprofessional feelings towards me?”

Rigsby snorts with laughter. “No.”

“Never thought about it,” Cho says.

Lisbon folds her arms. “Could’ve answered without the snort, Rigsby.”

“Okay, now I’ve thought about it,” Cho says. “Yes.”

“What?” Rigsby asks. “No.”

Lisbon feels cold all over. “Yes?”

“No way,” Rigsby says. “He doesn’t think about that stuff. He’s like a robot, or a sandwich. He’s not a... what’s the word?”

“Not a sexual being.” It feels true as she says it. Does that mean he can’t be in love with her, though? With all of them?

Rigsby clicks his fingers and points at her. “Exactly.”

Lisbon frowns at Cho. “But you said _yes_.”

“I’m not an expert,” Cho says. “You asked what I thought. That’s what I think. You want human insight, go ask Jane.”

-

He can’t be in love with her.

He can’t be. That’s ridiculous. For one thing, he’s already in love with Cho and Rigsby; there’s no room for her.

She thinks this fiercely at herself until the teetering-on-a-precipice feeling in her stomach draws away, and then she goes about her work as if this is a perfectly normal day. Which it is. Nobody is in love with her; everything’s fine.

It’s not until the drive home that it hits her: if he’s already in love with _two_ people—

She pulls over, hard, and stops the car and just sits there for a while, staring at her hands on the steering wheel.

She can’t think about this.

How Jane feels or doesn’t feel doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant. They’ll never be in a relationship (she can feel a headache building), so they won’t be breaking any CBI rules (she presses two fingers to her temple), and just – it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

Lisbon closes her eyes for a moment, and then she opens them and grabs the wheel and throws her car back out into the road, barely missing the taillights of the truck parked in front of her.

She’s going to ignore this, and she’s going to do her job, and her skin isn’t going to prickle when Jane gets a little too close. She won’t let it.

-

Their workload’s been getting heavier, and it’s been tougher to handle cases with just the four of them – well, three and one consultant – and so Minelli assigns Ryan Anderson to work with them.

Agent Anderson is capable and friendly, and a hard worker, and, crucially, able to put up with Jane. In almost every respect, he’s a great addition to the team.

But Jane isn’t in love with him. He likes him well enough, but he isn’t in love with him. There’s nothing there.

That’s probably a good thing, right? Everything’s complicated enough already.

Lisbon has Anderson reassigned after two months.

“He didn’t fit in,” she tells Jane, when he asks.

Jane gives her a searching look that would make her feel uncomfortable under any other circumstances, but she knows she’s safe. This isn’t about what she’s feeling; this is about what _he’s_ feeling, and she knows he’s a lot worse at picking up on that.

-

“You got rid of Anderson?”

“ _Got rid of_ makes it sound so brutal,” Lisbon says. “I recommended him for another position.”

“I liked Anderson,” Cho says.

Is he being sincere or ironic? In some ways, Cho is harder to read than Jane. “I’ll find the right person.”

She’s well aware that she’s being ridiculous. She’s not a matchmaker; she’s in law enforcement. It’s not her job to make sure Jane falls in love with his colleagues; it could be argued that it’s her job to _prevent_ that.

But Anderson felt like a hole in... whatever they are. Not in the team, but in whatever they are underneath that. A family, maybe, although her mind shies away from the word. Not a replacement for Jane’s wife and daughter. But something new.

-

Minelli puts recruiting their next operative into Lisbon’s hands. She loathes giving interviews, but she supposes she’s brought it upon herself by being fussy.

Of course, _Jane_ is the one whose fussiness is actually causing the problem here. But she can’t say that. And it doesn’t seem reasonable to _expect_ him to automatically fall in love with whoever walks through those doors, anyway.

It’d probably make most sense to ask Jane to be there for the interviews, so she can judge whether he and the candidates have any sparks. But Jane has a tendency to scare off interviewees, and his dislike of change means he’ll be moody about the prospect of bringing in someone new. Best to spring it on him without giving him any time to build up resentment.

So Lisbon does the interviews alone. Tries to trust her own judgement. If she makes the wrong call, she’ll be stuck with it; she can’t keep throwing qualified agents out of the unit on some insane mission to find someone their consultant will connect with.

There are some promising candidates on the getting-work-done side of things (which is, she reminds herself, the _important_ thing), but nobody really seems to be clicking.

And then she meets Grace Van Pelt.

Van Pelt isn’t the most experienced candidate, far from it, and she might be a little naïve. But she genuinely wants the job; she almost burns with it. She has a lot of real feeling, nothing jaded about her, and that’s refreshing for a cop surrounded by cops. Maybe it will be for a consultant surrounded by cops, too.

“May I ask a question?” Van Pelt asks.

“This interview’s for you as well as us,” Lisbon says. “Go ahead.”

“Your unit works with Patrick Jane, right? The psychic?”

“Former psychic,” Lisbon says. “He actually prefers the term ‘former fraud’.”

Van Pelt shakes her head. “I used to watch his show. There was something real there.”

Lisbon’s immediate thought is that this isn’t going to work. Someone who believes in psychic powers? There’s no way she and Jane won’t clash.

But maybe what Jane needs is someone who’ll clash with him. He’s never wanted things to be easy.

-

“Very pleasant addition to the Serious Crimes family,” Jane says, and Lisbon knows she’s made the right decision. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to be writing more Jane/everyone fanfiction. The best ship.
> 
> I was really expecting I'd write the Cho chapter before the Rigsby one! I couldn't work out which angle to take with the Rigsby chapter, and then it suddenly hit me.

Van Pelt leads him out of the building. When she says she needs to talk, she apparently needs to _talk_. Rigsby’s heart is hammering so hard he thinks he might throw up.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asks, just about managing to keep his voice from cracking like he’s fourteen again.

Van Pelt closes her eyes and breathes for a moment. The suspense is absolutely killing Rigsby. They’ll find his body outside the offices and Van Pelt will be charged with his murder.

Or maybe she’s a better criminal than they know. Maybe she’ll dispose of him properly, get away clean.

Is that hot?

Van Pelt opens her eyes. Her gaze feels a lot more intense than Rigsby can handle. “Jane’s in love with you.”

He hears _in love with_ and his heart leaps sideways before his mind slams into the _Jane_.

What?

She seriously did that sincere I-need-to-talk-to-you-privately thing for a _joke?_ That’s – that’s cruel.

No. No, he shouldn’t judge her. Maybe she doesn’t know how Rigsby feels about her. He thinks he’s been pretty subtle.

“Rigsby?” she asks, watching him. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” he says. “I just thought this was something serious. I should—” He jerks his thumb toward the door, clears his throat. “I should get back to work.”

“No, I’m serious,” she says. “I know it’s... strange. You haven’t noticed anything? About how he is with you?”

What’s going on?

“I mean, he doesn’t get personal space,” Rigsby says. “But that’s just Jane. Right?”

It used to make him kind of uncomfortable. But he’s gotten used to it, he knows Jane doesn’t mean anything by it.

Right?

Even if it’s not true, he’s not going to be able to stop thinking about this, is he? This is going to make work seriously awkward.

“I thought we should all be on the same page,” Van Pelt says. “It didn’t seem fair that you were the only one who didn’t know.”

“The only one who didn’t know Jane’s _in love with me?_ ” Any moment now she’s going to start laughing, say it’s just a stupid game. Jane doesn’t fall in love. Well, there was his wife. But not since then. And he’s not gay, right?

“Oh,” Van Pelt says. “No, it’s more complicated than that. It’s the whole team.”

“The _whole team_ is in love with me?” he demands. Too loudly. Crap.

Is she including herself in that? _Lisbon?_ Not Cho, right? Actually, maybe Cho would make sense, who the hell knows what that guy’s thinking—

She’s laughing. She’s laughing?

“Sorry,” she says. “I meant Jane. Jane’s in love with all of us.”

That... okay, that’s ridiculous, but somehow it kind of feels more plausible than him just being in love with Rigsby. Lisbon? Yeah, maybe he can see that, if Jane’s capable of being in love at all. Van... Van Pelt?

“Wait,” Rigsby says. “That’d mean he’s in love with _you_.”

Van Pelt nods.

This is very bad news. Jane is handsome and charming and Rigsby felt a lot better about him working with Van Pelt when he thought Jane just didn’t have feelings like that. “Where are you getting this from?”

“Lisbon told me,” Van Pelt says. “I mean, I could tell something was going on. But she told me, and it just... clicked, it made sense.”

“So he didn’t _say_ he’s in love with you,” Rigsby says. He’s pretty sure he’s not sounding desperate. Not too desperate, at least. “So maybe it’s not true.”

“Maybe,” Van Pelt says. It’s not even slightly convincing. She clearly one hundred percent believes Jane’s in love.

It’s freaking Rigsby out.

He can’t stop thinking about the time Jane made a killing in blackjack and bought them all stupidly expensive presents. There was a moment when Rigsby was kind of worried about the jewellery he gave Van Pelt. But he figured it was fine if Jane got stuff for _all_ of them. Couldn’t be into everyone, right?

“Whatever,” Rigsby says. “It’s one-sided, right? Some kind of... one-sided fiveway?”

Van Pelt hesitates. “Well, I can’t speak for everyone else.”

Something about that hesitation sets him on edge. “But you don’t... _you’re_ not into him, right?”

Van Pelt bites her lip for a moment. “I kissed him.”

“You – what? You did _what?_ ”

“Please don’t be upset.”

Oh, great, he’ll just turn off his emotions. “Where? When?”

“Uh, on the mouth,” she says. “A couple months ago.”

“No, I meant—” He could have guessed it was on the mouth; he didn’t need to _hear_ it. Van Pelt kissed _Jane?_ No way. It’s impossible. “Where as in... where? Location? In space?”

Van Pelt hesitates. “Does it matter?”

“I don’t know!” He needs information to... okay, he has no idea what he’s trying to do here. But getting information is the only thing he can think of. Maybe that’ll make things... better, somehow?

She’s twisting her hands together. “It was on his couch.”

“In the _office?_ ”

Van Pelt nods. She won’t make eye contact.

Okay. The information has actually made things worse. Because now he can’t stop picturing it in his head, Van Pelt kissing Jane, tangling her fingers in his hair, Jane pressing her slowly down into the couch cushions, and he is going to be picturing it _every fucking time he looks at that couch_.

Does he want to know the answer to this? “Just kissing? You didn’t...”

“No,” Van Pelt says, quickly. “No.”

He doesn’t know whether she means ‘no, we didn’t’ or ‘no, not just kissing’. He thinks it’s the first. He hopes it’s the first.

In his head, Jane slips his fingers under her belt.

“It was a mistake,” Van Pelt says. “He didn’t want it.”

Who wouldn’t want that? “I thought you said he was in love with you.”

“I don’t think he knows,” Van Pelt says. “Or... maybe it’s more like he won’t let himself believe it. There’s his wife. And there’s Red John.”

“Okay, he is definitely not in love with Red John.”

Van Pelt opens her mouth, and closes it again, and frowns. It’s a moment before she speaks. “He said _he hasn’t forgotten me_. If he loves us, Red John could take us away. I think that’s it.”

A dude is in love with Rigsby _and_ Van Pelt kissed Jane _and_ they could all be targets of a serial killer? Jesus, could this conversation get any worse? “Why’d you kiss him?”

She’s avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know. He was in love with me. I guess I thought...” She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not enough,” Rigsby says. “Him being in love with you.” He can’t say _if that’s enough, why haven’t you kissed me?_

He needs to forget about this; he needs to stop digging. He can’t. It’s like picking at a scab.

“I was trying to figure out how he felt,” she says. “And... how I felt, I guess.”

“And you figured it out, right?”

She meets his eyes, just fleetingly, before glancing away again. “It’s a complicated situation. I don’t know if I can put it into words.”

Which isn’t good news. Because it’d be easy to put the good news into words, and those words would be _I’m not interested in him_.

-

The passing cars outside the window seem louder than usual. Rigsby shifts from one side to the other, trying to get comfortable. Wishing he could just detach his arms for the night. Wishing he could believe _that’s_ the only reason he can’t get to sleep.

He can’t stop thinking about Jane and Van Pelt.

It probably wasn’t some long, sexy, her-legs-locked-around-him movie kiss, if she says he wasn’t into it. But that’s what’s going on in his head. Jane kissing her lips, her neck, Van Pelt sighing into his mouth...

_Maybe she was thinking of me,_ he tries to think, and then the thought hits him that maybe _Jane_ was thinking of him as well, and what the fuck—

He rolls onto his back. Stares desperately at the ceiling.

This is turning him on.

He puts his hands firmly behind his back, he fucking lies on his hands, because if he brings himself off thinking of this he’s never going to feel good about himself again.

-

Rigsby comes into work and is immediately smacked in the face by two problems.

Firstly: the couch. That fucking couch. Crap. No. Not ‘fucking’. That damn couch, and all its associations, sitting there and laughing at him.

Secondly: Jane, getting up from the couch, definitely able to see straight into Rigsby’s head and know exactly what’s been running through his mind all night.

“Hey, Rigsby.” Jane puts a hand on Rigsby’s shoulder in greeting. Not a manly shoulder-clap; he just... puts his hand there, keeps it there for definitely too long. Which reminds Rigsby of problem number three: apparently, Jane is supposed to be into _him_ as well.

It’s not true. Right? It’s not true, it can’t be true.

“Hey,” Rigsby mumbles.

Jane takes a half-step back, looks searchingly into Rigsby’s face. “Didn’t sleep well?”

Rigsby’s going to throw up. He absolutely knows. “Yeah, well. Stuff.”

“You’re hiding something from me,” Jane says, amused. “I thought you’d learned it wasn’t worth trying.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“Oh, well, then,” Jane says. “My mistake.” He takes Rigsby’s wrist and clasps it in both hands, which isn’t helping with anything. “Something emotional. Sexual.”

“Come on, man, don’t—”

“It’s clear from Van Pelt’s demeanour that she hasn’t slept with you,” Jane says, “so it’s something else.”

Rigsby yanks his hand out of Jane’s grasp, his ears burning. Glances around to make sure no one’s within earshot. “Jesus, you don’t have to say that in the middle of the office.”

The couch keeps catching at the corner of his eye. Phantoms making out on it. Jane and Van Pelt. Jane and Rigsby.

Jane grins. “Come on, it’s not like anyone doesn’t—”

“Did you kiss Van Pelt?” Rigsby asks, dropping his voice.

He doesn’t often get to see Jane look taken aback.

“I did not,” Jane says, after a moment. The playfulness has gone.

Jane’s a liar, he knows that, but being lied to about _this_ kind of makes him feel sick. “She said she kissed you.”

“You didn’t ask whether _she_ kissed _me_ ,” Jane says. “That’s a different question.”

There’s a moment’s silence. It feels dangerous.

“I’m not an obstacle to your interest, Rigsby,” Jane says, quietly. “I can promise you that.”

“What was it like?” Rigsby asks.

Jane looks startled again, just for a moment, but then he begins to smile. “That’s not why you’re asking.”

“I don’t know why I’m asking,” Rigsby says. “I just think I need to know.”

“I’d prefer not to relive it,” Jane says. “If you don’t mind.”

Which means that either it was traumatic or there was real feeling there. Van Pelt was right. Jane is in love with her. Maybe with the rest of them as well.

Shit.

He wants to say _no, you’re going to tell me_. He wants to tell Jane to _show_ him, kiss him the way he and Van Pelt kissed. He wants—

He wants to go back to before he learned about any of this. Back when things made sense.

“Okay,” Rigsby says. “Fine. We can forget about this.”

“We can forget about this,” Jane agrees, nodding.

They’re not going to forget about it, either of them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's Cho! Again, I've provisionally marked this as complete; I haven't entirely decided whether this needs a chapter from Jane's perspective as well. (His perspective is hard to write!)

Cho’s always drawn clear lines between things he needs to think about and things he doesn’t. Jane wants to get too close to other people on the team? Not his problem.

Jane wants to get too close to _Cho_? That _is_ his problem, particularly if Jane’s only doing it because he knows he can’t get Lisbon, or Van Pelt, or whoever. Cho’s not here to be a consolation prize; he’s here to be good at his job.

He chooses the direct route. The only route that exists, as far as he’s concerned.

He stops by Jane’s couch. “Need to speak to you.”

Jane opens his eyes. “You’re speaking to me.”

“In an interrogation room.” It’s where he thinks the most clearly.

Jane raises his eyebrows. “That’s a terrible way to break the news that I’m being arrested.”

-

Cho pushes Jane down into a chair. Force of habit. Probably shouldn’t be shoving his colleagues around.

He takes the chair opposite and gets straight down to business. “Are you in love with Teresa Lisbon?”

Lisbon’s not the only one he’s noticed Jane’s behaviour around. But, if Jane’s only actually interested in one person, if he’s just playing games with everyone else, Cho judges her to be the most likely target.

Jane pauses. “Is this an interrogation?”

“Is that an answer?”

“Why are you asking?” Jane asks. “Who wants to take all the intrigue out of their office relationships? More fun to guess, don’t you think?”

“There’s no intrigue,” Cho says. “I know you’re not in a relationship. I’m asking how you feel.”

Jane sits back in his chair. “A little nosy, wouldn’t you say, Cho? A little intrusive.”

“She’s a striking woman. Nobody could blame you.”

“Okay, are _you_ in love with Lisbon?”

“You’re being evasive,” Cho says. “It’s not going to work.”

Jane laughs. “Why not? What are you going to do to me if I don’t give you an answer?”

“Some people might say that evasiveness is an answer in itself,” Cho says. “If you’re not in love with her, you have no reason not to tell me that.”

“And what do _you_ say?”

Cho sighs internally. “You like being evasive. It could mean anything.”

Jane grins. “Oh, Kimball, you know me so well.”

“Yeah. Not well enough.”

“Let’s see how well I know _you_.” Jane looks over him. “You’re not the type to be interested in office gossip. You’d have a more personal reason for asking.”

“You think so?”

“If you want to discuss being evasive, you didn’t give me an answer when I asked if _you_ were in love with Lisbon.”

“That’s right,” Cho says. “I’m in love with Lisbon. Nice work.”

“Well, of course,” Jane says. “You’d make a very attractive couple. Absolutely ruthless. The criminal world would shiver in fear.”

“There.” Cho taps two fingers sharply on the table. “The flirting. Why do you do that?”

“I don’t think I can technically flirt with Lisbon if she’s not here. She’s not, is she?” He gives the one-way mirror a small wave.

“I don’t mean with Lisbon. I mean with me.”

He’s expecting Jane to deny it.

“For my own amusement,” Jane says. “Just like when I flirt with anyone else. It may surprise you to learn this, Cho, but I’ve been known to enjoy seeing people flustered.”

It’s a believable explanation. Cho’s not buying it. “So what do you do if someone reciprocates?”

Jane’s smile falls away. “Then it’s very painful and uncomfortable for everyone involved.”

Sounds like it’s already happened. Who was it? Someone on the team? “Sounds risky.”

“You’re asking me to stop?”

“I just want to know where everyone’s standing. I’m not a substitute. If that’s not how you see me, we don’t have a problem.”

“A _substitute?_ ” Jane echoes. “For Lisbon?”

Always hard to judge, when Jane seems surprised, whether it’s genuine or he’s putting on an act. “For anyone. I’m the one who goes along with your plans. Maybe you think that’s not the only thing I’d go along with. Maybe I look like an easier target than the girls.”

“You’re making me sound like some kind of pick-up artist,” Jane says. “If I _did_ have some sort of sexual intent, I can assure you I’d consider you an invigorating challenge.”

“No sexual intent,” Cho says, to be sure.

Jane presses his thumb briefly against his wedding band. “None.”

“The flirting doesn’t mean anything.”

Jane pauses. So maybe that’s a different question, in his mind, from whether there’s sexual intent there. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

-

Cho looks in on the observation room afterwards, just to check.

“Rigsby in there?” Jane asks.

“No one’s there,” Cho says. “Why Rigsby specifically?”

“Well, we were having a delicate conversation,” Jane says. “Most of our colleagues would have removed themselves when it started to wind down, rather than risk being caught eavesdropping. Our friend Rigsby, on the other hand, is the type to leave his escape a little too late.”

“He’s not here.”

“He’s not there,” Jane agrees. “Which eliminates one potential eavesdropper, at least.”

“Does it bother you that someone might have overheard?”

“As I said,” Jane says. “Office intrigue. The lifeblood of workplaces. So long as it’s interesting, why should I complain?”

-

Cho doesn’t feel he’s had a straight answer out of Jane. Not a surprise; he suspects he’s _never_ had a straight answer out of Jane. That conversation was not an exception.

So he keeps paying attention. Categorises how Jane behaves towards him, towards Lisbon, towards Van Pelt. Not on paper; that’d be weird. Just staying alert, just noticing things. The times Jane stands too close to Lisbon, the times he whispers to Van Pelt when there’s no reason not to speak aloud, the times he takes Cho out to fancy restaurants like he’s daring him to ask whether it’s a date.

It’s a free meal. Cho doesn’t say anything.

He was expecting to see differences between Jane’s treatment of Cho and his treatment of the women. The more he picks up on, though, the more he starts to think the difference is actually between people in the unit and people outside it.

Jane flirts with Rigsby as well, touches him, makes overfamiliar comments, just like with the rest of them. Cho hadn’t realised, assumed he was the only guy getting the treatment. There’s no way Jane thinks _Rigsby’s_ an easy target, not when the guy’s driving ambition is to staple himself to Van Pelt.

So maybe it’s true. Maybe Jane just flirts to make people uncomfortable.

Or maybe there’s something else going on.

He doesn’t lose sleep over it. But he wonders.

-

“Dude,” Rigsby says, a few weeks later, when they’re searching a suspect’s house. “Need to talk to you.”

Sometimes Cho wonders if he’s the only person who actually has connections outside the unit. There’s no way he’s the most approachable person Rigsby knows, but somehow he’s still the one Rigsby comes to with personal problems. “About Van Pelt?”

“I can talk about things that aren’t Van Pelt.”

“But it’s about Van Pelt, right?” Cho asks.

Rigsby crosses his arms. “It’s about Jane.”

Looks like Rigsby’s noticed. “And Van Pelt?”

“Fine,” Rigsby says. “Yes. Wait, you know about that?”

“He isn’t normal around her. I figured it’d start to bother you eventually.”

“He isn’t normal around _anyone_.”

“True,” Cho says.

“Van Pelt says he’s in love with us,” Rigsby says. “Like, everyone in the unit. Like, me. You.”

That tracks. “Yeah, figured it was something like that.”

“You didn’t know? She said everyone else knew.”

They do? Huh. “Close enough. This is just confirmation.”

Rigsby shakes his head. “You’ve got to have more of a reaction than that, man.”

Cho shrugs. “It’s not my problem.”

“It’s not your problem? It’s not your problem that Jane’s _in love_ with you?”

“If he’s not making out with me in front of suspects, I can still do my job,” Cho says. “If you said he was just messing with me, maybe it’d bother me. If he’s in love, fine. Not my problem.”

Rigsby is staring at him.

“What?” Cho asks.

“You had to say that?” Rigsby asks. “You had to make me _picture him_ making out with you?”

“Guess so,” Cho says.

Rigsby taps his fingers on the wall for a moment.

“It’s been a real problem,” he says. “Picturing things.”

“You absolutely do not have to talk to me about this,” Cho says.

“I think I do. It’s killing me.”

“Fine,” Cho says, pushing aside jackets in the suspect’s closet. “I’m not going to listen.”

“Like... if Van Pelt kissed him,” Rigsby says. “It’s a pity makeout, right? It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Depends,” Cho says. “Even if she’s not into him, means she likes him enough to kiss him. If Van Pelt’s giving out pity makeouts and you’re not getting one, you’re in trouble.”

“Thanks,” Rigsby mutters. “Not like that’s been the only thing on my mind for a week.”

“So Van Pelt kissed Jane?”

Rigsby makes a strangled noise. “You said you knew!”

“You sure about that?” Cho asks, looking back at him. “I didn’t know. Seems like a weird thing for me to make up.”

“I said it was about Jane! You said _and Van Pelt_!”

“Yeah,” Cho says. “The way Jane acts around her. Didn’t say anything about kissing.”

“He acts that way around everyone! You said Van Pelt; of course I was going to think you meant the kiss!”

“It’s you,” Cho says. “Of course it was going to be about Van Pelt.”

Rigsby stares at him for a moment, frozen.

“Okay,” he says at last. “I never said Van Pelt kissed him. I said _if_.”

“Convincing,” Cho says.

-

Things take on a new light once he knows the others know. Lisbon’s smiles when Jane pays particular attention to her, a little embarrassed, a little knowing. Van Pelt returning Jane’s affection in small ways, a touch on his wrist or on his shoulder, never crossing a line into anything beyond ambiguity. At one point Jane compliments Rigsby’s shoulders and Rigsby gets so flustered he walks straight into a desk.

Lisbon’s been watching Jane interact with the others, just like Cho has. Jane borrows a pen from Cho one morning and puts his hand inside Cho’s jacket to return it, slips it into his inside pocket. Cho looks up and meets Lisbon’s eyes, and there’s a moment of connection there, of understanding. They’re on the same page. This is what they’ve become at some point: not Jane’s co-workers, not his lovers, but some weird thing in between.

If it doesn’t interfere with the job, Cho can live with that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter: Hightower! Because I'm pretty sure Jane was in love with her as well.

Hightower knows what she’s up against when she takes on the Serious Crimes unit, of course. She’s carefully read through the files of everyone involved; she’s read Jane’s file several times, just to make sure she didn’t imagine half of its contents. But she’s still a little taken aback when she looks through the unit’s finances and sees that it has its own lawsuit budget, higher than the amount set aside for all the other divisions put together. And that it still wasn’t enough to cover last year’s legal expenses.

Still, she likes a challenge. She’d never have applied for this position if she didn’t. People she’s never spoken to before come up to her in the corridors and apologise to her: actual honest-to-God “I heard you have to deal with Jane now; I’m so sorry” apologies. A couple of people have asked whether there’s anything they can do to help. She just flashes a smile and says, “I think I can handle him, thanks.”

It’s an interesting start. Jane doesn’t like her; for someone so skilled in reading the subtleties of someone’s feelings, he’s surprisingly unsubtle himself. He doesn’t have to like her. That’s not a problem. He just needs to stay in line, and she knows – from hearsay, from observation, from studying the outcomes of previous cases – she knows that Lisbon is the key. Putting Jane’s job on the line would be an empty threat, and he knows it. She wouldn’t want to lose Lisbon – Lisbon’s a good agent – but Lisbon isn’t essential. And she’s pretty sure it’s a safe gamble, anyway, because Jane wants to lose Lisbon much, much less than she does.

In fact, he might be a little _too_ invested in Lisbon’s career.

-

“I called you here to discuss the nature of your relationship with Agent Lisbon,” Hightower says. She keeps her hands on the desk in front of her, fingers laced together.

“Ah,” Jane says. “And what exactly is the nature of my relationship with Agent Lisbon?”

“You’re in love with her.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“Nothing wrong with that. But I thought I’d remind you of CBI regulations concerning sexual relationships in the workplace, just in case things go any further.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

“Obviously we can’t lose you,” Hightower says, sitting back in her chair and regarding him shrewdly, “so Lisbon would need to be transferred. I’ve heard stories about what happens when people try to split you two up. I’m just saying that it would make things a whole lot easier on everyone concerned if we didn’t get to that stage.”

“I can assure you there’s no risk whatsoever of that,” Jane says, “but thanks for your concern. Nice chat.”

-

She’s on their side, of course, as far as she can be. They’re her team, they’re her people. But she’s careful in showing her hand, she’s gradual. Best to come out with the hardass first, then let them realise she’s not their enemy. If she tries to be everyone’s friend from the start, they’ll end up feeling like she’s broken their trust when the gloves come off. The hardass is there, and it’s going to have to come out sometime.

You only get one chance to make a first impression. If you don’t get them to respect you then, you’re not getting it later. She’s hoping she’s got the balance right.

Even if she’s not sure Jane respects anyone but Red John.

In any case, the air in the office feels warmer before long, and she’s glad of it. They know she’s serious, but they’re not so on edge around her.

Of course, there’s a distinction between ‘not being on edge around your superior’ and ‘kissing your superior on the cheek’. Maybe she hasn’t drawn her lines clearly enough.

She dwells on it for a while, after Jane kisses her. She knows she shouldn’t; she swore to herself that she wasn’t going to let him get to her. But it’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking.

He knows she’s married; he knows her marriage has been a struggle of late. He knows she’s the boss, obviously. It’s not an outright romantic gesture, but it’s clearly not appropriate. Maybe that’s why he chose it: pushing the boundaries, going far enough to be uncomfortable without tipping over the edge into anything she can actually discipline him for.

In the end, she calls Lisbon into her office.

-

“You wanted to see me?” Lisbon asks.

“Close the door, please, Agent Lisbon.”

Lisbon does. Remains standing. She still seems a little uneasy in Hightower’s presence.

“Jane kissed me,” Hightower says. “On the cheek.”

The look Lisbon gives her is wary, surprised. But less surprised than Hightower might have expected. “Jane, ma’am?”

“Unless we work with someone else who’s blond and difficult.” She steers away from the word _infuriating_ at the last second; it’s not a good one to use when describing colleagues.

“With respect, ma’am, why are you telling me this?”

It’s a fair question. Lisbon doesn’t need to be involved in this. The most professional route would probably be to address this with Jane directly, in private.

(The phrase _address this with Jane in private_ has taken on strange shadows in Hightower’s mind.)

But Lisbon knows Jane better than anyone else in this bureau. Possibly better than anyone else, period. If anyone can offer some insight into what that man’s thinking...

“I know he’s trying to manipulate me somehow,” Hightower says. “I wanted to know if you had any thoughts on his goal.”

“You know,” Lisbon says, after a moment, “I think he might just be welcoming you to the team.”

“I’ve been here a while, Agent Lisbon.”

Lisbon’s clearly trying to suppress a smile. “And now Jane’s decided you’re part of the team.”

“I’m honoured,” Hightower says, dryly. “I hadn’t realised we let our consultants make the personnel decisions.”

-

Hightower’s not sure, for a while, whether raising it with Lisbon was the right thing to do. But Lisbon seems more at ease around her afterwards, she notices. As if Hightower can really be considered one of them, now that Jane has ‘welcomed her to the team’, whatever that means.

It’s good to have a warm relationship with her people, but she still has to be clear that there are boundaries. At one point she passes Agents Rigsby and Cho and catches a snippet of conversation that concerns her.

“...five people?” Rigsby is asking. “Is that possible? There’s got to be a limit, right?”

“Makes sense,” Cho says. “I mean, she’s better-looking than Minelli.”

Hightower pauses in her step. Minelli: the man she replaced. “I very much hope you aren’t discussing your superiors’ physical appearance, agents.”

Cho turns. “No, ma’am.”

“Good,” Hightower says, after a moment. “I know we’re all professionals here.”

“Yikes,” she hears Rigsby say quietly, as she walks away, and then, “Wait, do you think he... with Minelli...?”

She’s too far away to hear Cho’s answer. Not that she understands the question.

-

Hightower ends up working with Jane on the case out in gold country, while Agent Lisbon is injured. Jane is, predictably, impossible. It’s almost enough to make Hightower feel bad for threatening Lisbon’s career if she didn’t manage to keep Jane under control; Lisbon must have walked into her office and heard that she was going to lose her job if she didn’t find a way to make fire burn cold.

Still, first impressions are crucial. At least Lisbon and her team know that they’re expected to aim for the stars, reachable or not.

Hightower finds herself mentally filing Jane’s difficult behaviour into two categories. The first is reasonably straightforward: general disrespect. Riling up the people they interview. Failing to be where he says he will. Driving off and leaving her behind. She’ll give him a talking-to when they’re back at the station. Not that he’ll listen – he seems to have concluded that the threat of letting Lisbon go is an empty one, and he might be right; Hightower’s not sure anyone else would be better than Lisbon at keeping him on the leash – but at least she has a clear course of action.

(Is he being especially hard to work with to protect Lisbon’s post? Is it a way of saying ‘hey, if _you_ can’t keep me under control you can’t punish Lisbon for my actions’?)

The second category is a little murkier. He hugs her to hide from a suspect, then just leaves his arm around her shoulder for a while. He skims his fingers along her wrist, guides her with a hand on her back or her arm. He’s... overfamiliar. It bothers her, and it starts to bother her more when he makes it clear he’s known about the divorce all along.

What is his goal, here? Is he trying to do something to her head? Is he trying to seduce her? Testing the infidelity rumours? What?

-

Hightower pulls open the driver’s door of the car, then catches the way Jane’s looking at her. “What?”

“You’re driving?” Jane asks.

“You want to drive?”

“The sun will be on the passenger side all the way back to the station,” Jane says. “You’ll look beautiful with it behind you. Very striking.”

Hightower looks at him for a moment, then slams the door. Jane flinches like it’s a gunshot.

“I’m in the process of a divorce,” Hightower says. “I’m your superior. Do you really think flirting is appropriate?”

“Who’s flirting? I thought we were just solving a case together.”

Hightower levels a stare at him. There’s no possible way he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“You know, the English language is a magical beast,” Jane says. “There are so many different ways to express the same sentiment. Do you ever wonder why you might choose one over another?”

“Do you ever wonder why you’re apparently incapable of giving a straight answer to a question?”

“Let’s take what you just said as an example,” Jane says. “ _Do you really think flirting is appropriate?_ You could have said _flirting isn’t appropriate_ , or _I don’t think flirting is appropriate_. But you made it a question. You put the decision in my hands. Perhaps there a reason you’re not just asking me to stop.”

“Are you saying you’re not going to stop?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I want you to stop talking,” Hightower says, folding her arms. “Which will presumably make it harder to flirt. A tragic loss, but I’ll manage.”

“What makes you so sure I’m flirting, anyway? What happened to your conviction that I was in love with Lisbon?”

“I don’t know, Mr Jane,” Hightower says, razor-edging every word. “Perhaps you’re a dog.”

Jane starts to laugh. “I just wanted to drive.”

-

She kisses Jane on the cheek before she goes on the run. A thank-you. Maybe a kind of revenge, too. Let _him_ be the one to wonder what it means, for once. 


End file.
